


Courtship Flight

by audiopilot



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon Kissing, Eye Trauma, Knifeplay, M/M, Power Dynamics, Psychopathic/Sociopathic Behavior, Size Difference, Stitches, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiopilot/pseuds/audiopilot
Summary: The first time Jake meets the newest survivor he thinks,this is going to be fun.A role reversal AU with killer Jake Park and survivor Michael Myers.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Jake Park
Comments: 33
Kudos: 214





	1. Chapter 1

The newest survivor is too big.

As tall as Philip but with all of Evan's muscle, Jake regards him from where he crouches up in one of the tall trees of the MacMillan estate. He looks a little ridiculous following behind Glasses towards a generator. Jake lets them begin repairs, entertained by the disparity between the two.

He looks more suited to be a killer, actually, not blinking and his mouth a flat, even line. None of the nervous shifting or too-wide eyes of the other survivors. He's wearing what appears to be a mechanic's coveralls, and Jake inwardly sighs at the prospect of another survivor adept with machinery. His big hands fumble with the delicate wires and cause the generator to explode. Sparks shoot in all directions, but he doesn't react. Glasses cringes, head whipping around in fright, but still takes the time to correct the other's movements. Always trying to be the leader.

Jake disregards him, focusing on the other survivor. Not so mechanically inclined, then. Something about that expressionless face makes Jake restless. His four birds pick up on it; he can feel them shifting where they perch on his hat and cling to his shoulders. Their tiny bodies bump against his head as they jostle for space. He slips his fingers against the one on his left shoulder for it to nuzzle, considering his first play. Jake's about the same size as the rest of the survivors, meaning he'll need to account for the man's height and weight when attacking. Along with figuring out what special abilities the entity has granted him.

And what is the newest killer like? Jake hopes they won't be stingy about sharing their powers. It had taken Sally displeasing the entity one too many times before she gave in and taught him how to track injured survivors. 

The entity's impatience is a sharp poke at the back of his head, demanding he start the hunt. 

_Yeah, yeah_ , Jake thinks agreeably. Doesn't it know his preferences by now? Still, he sends one bird down to land on top of the generator. It preens as it waits to absorb their progress, easy to mistake as any of the other crows littering the area. Glasses, who should know better, takes too long to notice.

He shoots to his feet, trying to pull the new survivor with him, and Jake lazily swings his nangseon down. It hits Glasses in the chest, the blades attached to its branches shredding into both shirt and skin. Jake's terror radius blooms as he stands, throwing off the insidious effect that allowed Jake to ambush them. After a quick tug to ensure that he's properly secured, which makes Glasses stumble and become even more trapped in the branches, Jake heaves him upwards. Time to end it quickly so he can focus on the other one. Jake pulls out his silver knife, the bells on its sheath making a cheerful sound while the survivor screams in panic.

Except he suddenly gets a lot heavier. Jake smacks into one of the tree limbs around him when the nangseon's handle is almost torn free. His remaining birds cry out, wings fluttering as they're dislodged. Disbelief momentarily stuns him. The new survivor has a hold on Glasses' legs and is pulling him downwards. Jake tries to lift again, but he has no leverage when the survivor is strong enough to yank Glasses back to the ground. Jake could understand it if he was using his own body weight and gravity to counter him, but the survivor has both feet planted on the ground.

Position no longer advantageous, Jake hops down and holds onto the nangseon with both hands. The blades rip free from Glasses in a spray of blood, the weapon refusing to bend despite its fragile appearance. Jake whips it around to make the branches rustle threateningly in Glasses' direction to the survivor's obvious horror. He wilts, holding his bleeding arms over the cuts covering his chest and unable to hold back his whimpers. 

Jake checks to judge the other survivor's reaction. Since he had to move out of the shadows to grab Glasses, the moonlight now fully illuminates him. A long scar bisects one eye, shiny and pink across pale skin. Jake's birds land back in their spots. The survivor's dark gaze travels from Jake's weapon to the birds before settling on his face.

There's no trace of fear or worry. He looks... bored. 

There's a name tag sewn onto the coveralls. It reads _Michael_.

"Run!" Glasses shouts, already going towards one of the junk piles that serve to only delay the inevitable. Jake doesn't pursue him.

His useless heart pumps away in his chest. Does this survivor have an ability to be so strong? It won't last, the entity never allows them an edge over the killers for very long. Runner can sprint away in only short bursts, and Jumper only gets a speed boost from landing once before she has to recover. The same will hold true for this one, which means there's no easy option for escape, but he doesn't even move as Jake edges closer.

"Am I your first?" Jake asks, then adds, "Michael?"

It feels strange in his mouth. It's hard to keep track of which survivor is which when they change their clothes and appearance often, and Jake's fallen back on nicknames for how he interprets their roles or strongest ability. Except Glasses, who always wears them and regularly fucks up his pitiful attempts to rally the survivors together.

Apparently, the new survivor comes with a pre-made label.

Michael stares. It's not like he can understand the words, based off Jake's attempts to talk to survivors in previous trials, but it's tiring, killing in silence. At least his birds understand him, rattling as they eye the survivor with interest. 

Jake waves a hand and one crow takes flight to follow Glasses as the first continues to drain the generator. Hopefully he'll be off searching for Healer instead of coming back to disrupt it. He still has the other two survivors to account for and, if they're smart, then they'll be on separate generators. Jake directs another to search them out, leaving him with only one left. It caws loudly, head tilting as it waits for his instructions.

On even ground, Michael looms over Jake. No matter, he's still powerless as Jake swings his nangseon around. The blades tear at him, slicing into his arm and side, but he doesn't make a sound as he bleeds. Jake is fully in his space within seconds. He aims his dagger at his throat, anticipating the soft give of his flesh, only for a hand to clamp down on his wrist. 

Surprised, Jake blinks. His sleeve has slipped down enough for Michael to grab bare skin. He's very warm. Jake can smell him, underneath the blood. Jake blinks again, several times in quick succession, as Michael squeezes impossibly hard. It actually hurts, pain shooting down Jake's arm as the thin bones grind together. 

"How can you touch me?" demands Jake as he attempts to break free. They're too close together for a spear to be useful. He's down to beating at the man's arm as he angles the knife's blade down into where Michael's fingers are curled around him. To make things worse, he notices a generator being completed on the other side of the lot. The entity's usual whispers have risen to demanding screams that he put this survivor on a hook.

 _I'm trying_. Jake grits his teeth when Michael pries the dagger from his fingers like he's trying to break them. He successfully steals Jake's knife, gripping the handle and turning it to study the metal intently before glancing back down at Jake. Like he's thinking about using it. 

A strange feeling overcomes Jake, makes his mouth go dry and his stomach tighten.

The last bird flies up and drags its claws over Michael's face. He releases Jake's wrist to bat it away and Jake quickly creates distance. He readies his nangseon, wishing he'd taken the time to poison the blades this trial, but he hadn't thought he would need it. He wasn't expecting anyone new and he wasn't expecting someone like this.

No one had been able to put up a fight before. Sure, they could wiggle out of Jake's grasp or blind him with stupid flashlights, but their greatest weapons were running and hiding. Not attacking back, let alone disarming him.

Jake wonders if the entity had made a mistake. Or if it's punishing him somehow. Maybe he'd let the last survivor escape one too many times. It's a fickle master.

He attacks again, stabbing the nangseon forward to entangle Michael's arm in it. Michael tries to hack at the branches, but the blade refuses to break its sibling.

If he wants to win this trial, then he can't spend too much time on a single survivor. Without pressure, the other three will complete the four remaining generators and waltz out of the exit gates. But there's no way he's letting one of them run around with one of Jake's own weapons. Jake twists the spear and the sharp blades sink deeper. Then he leaps forward, punching hard at Michael's throat. He doesn't hold back his strength and Michael falls to his knees with a strangled wheeze.

Jake plucks his dagger out of Michael's fingers as he coughs. He flips it and slams the handle's end into Michael's face.

A wet crunch signals a broken nose, but Michael still doesn't cry out or groan even as thick blood drips from both nostrils. Jake lightly slides the blade under his chin, breathing fast as it leaves a shallow cut. He could press down, force the knife to part muscle and dig out his vocal cords if Michael is so set on refusing to use them. How beautiful would his insides be, peeled apart and flayed open?

Michael's eyes are trained on Jake's own, and Jake realizes the scarred one is the milky white of a cataract. That snaps him out of his momentary bloodlust and Jake affects a grin.

"Ready to die, big boy?" he teases. He drags Michael towards a hook. It takes more effort than usual to heft him onto it. Jake resents that he still won't scream even when the hook plunges into his shoulder. 

"Keep him company," Jake tells his last crow. It obediently flies up on top of the hook to await a rescue and Jake calls on the other three. 

Glasses and Healer are together as he predicted, on a nearly finished generator after she healed his wounds. His bird watches from atop a wooden crate beside them, blending in with the entity's own crows. It's in the farthest corner of the map and they can complete it before Jake could arrive in time. He lets them go. Once they finish, at least one will have to rescue and heal Michael. The initial generator he found Glasses and Michael at is fully drained, and that bird flies back to Jake. The final survivor is Tinkerer, pulling a toolbox out of a chest and already creeping towards a machine of his own while a bird hops after him.

He's a timid thing, face disfigured by blemishes and always quick to hide. He's also the fastest at repairing generators, hence the name, and Jake picks him as the next target. 

When Jake approaches the generator, Tinkerer is in the middle of sneaking away and gasps at being caught out in the open. He runs for the safety of the warehouse. If the window by the staircase is open, it'll be a pain to chase him, but Jake doesn't want to let him go without at least a hit to make him more cautious about working on generators. Especially when he hears Glasses and Healer finish theirs. He hunts him down, hitting him with his spear when Tinkerer drops from the second story. Dimly, he's aware of Michael being rescued and healed as Tinkerer struggles to keep things between them. His distressed cries make him easy to follow. Jake stabs him in his flannel-shirted back with the dagger when he tries to make it to a pallet. 

When he tosses him onto a hook, Jake immediately moves on to patrol the remaining generators. It's too soon for him to check on the others with his birds and he recalls the one attached to Tinkerer back to roost on the brim of his hat. With two for two, the odds aren't very good for him. He needs to hook at least two more before they complete the next generator. Even better if he can force someone to second stage and then they will be marked for absorption by the next time he catches them. The entity doesn't like it when the survivors die too quick, but Jake needs better control over this trial after his shaky start.

A generator explodes, someone crossing the wires or using the wrong part, and Jake diverts to intercept them before they can hide. It's actually two of them, Michael and Healer working together. Glasses must be sneaking around to aid Tinkerer. 

Healer is crouched behind a nearby brick wall near the edge of the lot, hissing something at Michael, who is still in front of the generator.

 _Maybe he's just a really strong idiot_. If he's not going to do anything to help his team, then Jake plans to ignore him for now. At Jake's whistled command, his bird leaves his hat to roost instead on top of the generator, slowing its pace.

He goes for Healer, but she dodges by swerving sharply to the right. She throws herself at a pallet, knocking it down without looking behind her as she continues to run. Panicky. She's heading for the shack where the basement lies, ducking behind the crumbling walls that hold only windows. He doesn't bother breaking the pallet. Instead of directly following, Jake runs through the open area to cut her off from the shack.

She squeaks when he knocks her down, planting his foot over her sternum and sweeping his nangseon across her face. Her screams vibrate up through the thin sole of his shoe and fill his ears as she weakly tugs on the ends of his outer robe. If she had run instead of trying to help Michael, she might have escaped, but she's too kind for her own good. He can always count on her to not leave anyone behind. When he bends to put her over his shoulder, Jake is amused to see Michael still in the same spot. He doesn't try and block Jake from putting her on the hook. Jake leaves Healer to whimper where she hangs as he walks back to the generator, taking his time.

His other bird has arrived and circles over Michael's head. 

While he'd been attacking Healer, Tinkerer was unhooked. He hasn't been healed yet. Hopefully he's not staying injured to work on a generator, but the concern is a distant one. Someone will have to rescue Healer, because Jake isn't going to give Michael a chance to get past him. If he even knows how to help her.

Michael finally moves and Jake straightens, ready to counteract, but all he does is stand. Jake hesitates for a split second, unsure which weapon to use, and decides on the knife as he reaches him. Jake lifts his hand in invitation and the bird takes a tight turn out of its circling to fly back to him. It lands with a soft, raspy sound before bouncing along his arm to sit on his shoulder. Jake extends the dagger, pointing it at Michael, and rearranges his expression into something playful.

"I liked you better on your knees," he says.

Michael's hand twitches. 

Jake whirls, slashing the knife across his chest and kicking at Michael's kneecap. Michael drops, catching himself on one knee in a half-crouch, and the coverall's front splits to reveal a dark shirt and white skin. A long, shallow cut parts the skin but barely bleeds. Jake swipes again, aiming for the blade to bite into muscle, only for Michael's hand to get in the way. The tip pierces his palm. There's barely any resistance as it slices through both bone and tendon. Another hand catches Jake's bicep. It yanks him off balance until Jake is leaning over Michael. His bird caws in surprise at its forced displacement, taking to the air. The one on the generator joins it.

Jake grits his teeth as he attempts to pull free. This close, he can hear Michael breathing, feel the touch of his chest with every deep inhale, much too calm for someone who should be at Jake's mercy. There's no way Jake's weapon is leaving his hand again and he shoves it deeper into Michael's palm, up to the hilt. Instead of flinching away in pain, Michael's fingers slowly curl around the guard. Holding on.

Healer shouts as she goes into second stage. The sounds of her struggling to prevent the entity's claws from piercing her aren't loud enough to cover Jake's own grunt as he attempts to wrench the knife sideways. The generator within the warehouse completes with a loud boom.

Three generators done and no one's dead. Annoying.

Both of his birds swoop in, pecking at Michael wherever they can reach. Jake forces a leg between them and puts his shoe low on Michael's chest to push off from it. It eases a few inches of space between them, but Michael won't let go of his knife. There's no softness, no give to the body under his foot. Michael is so determined to take it from him that he's inadvertently dooming his teammate. The other two aren't brave enough to approach while Jake's radius still eclipses her hook, and Michael isn't giving him a reason to leave. Actively preventing him, in fact. 

Jake tries to hold it in, but he can't help it. He starts laughing. 

Michael's upturned face is like a mask, no movement but for the slight dilation of his pupils.

Maybe he's not a punishment. Maybe he's a gift. Jake would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about what Michael would do with the dagger if he had it. He's already left the dull ache of forming bruises on Jake's wrist, an alien sensation when nothing can hurt Jake here but the entity itself. Not even the other killers can touch him, and they've tried. 

Except Michael. 

The realization renders him silent. Jake observes the survivor with a new appreciation, tendrils of a thought licking at his insides with its filthy tongue.

It's with that in mind when he drapes his weight across Michael by leaning hard against his own leg. It puts his face directly over Michael's.

"I'll give it to you," Jake murmurs, "if you beg me for it."

Michael's eyelids drop into a gradual blink as if he's processing the words. The intent must translate in Jake's low tone, how he presses himself against him and brushes the fingers of his free hand against Michael's soft lower lip.

To underline the message, Jake drops his leg and sits on Michael's knee, spreading his thighs around the width of his body. He doesn't bother to be gentle about how the arrangement yanks on where his knife is still buried in Michael's hand. His birds land back on his shoulders and lean forwards in curiosity, bumping their silky heads against Jake's chin. Jake dismisses them and they both reluctantly take off to join the other two.

He places a hand on Michael's chest, slips it beneath the tattered shirt to feel at his pectoral muscles and the cut that laterally crosses them. The tip of his fingernail hooks inside and he presses hard until hot blood wells out, makes his fingertip slick as he traces it down to one round nipple. It stiffens under his touch.

Jake angles his head to fit his lips against Michael's. He presses his tongue to the firm line of them. Under the taste of his skin, there's a slight coppery aftertaste that lingers from his earlier nosebleed. Excitement builds like a bonfire, flames igniting to burn away his plans for the trial, all thought of sacrifice insignificant in comparison to the possibilities of a warm, living body against his own. And a dangerous one at that. Michael's grip leaves his bicep to wrap around Jake's throat. Fingers dig in directly over his carotid, the pressure leaving Jake dizzy though he doesn't need to breathe.

Without realizing it, Jake had closed his eyes. He opens them to see Michael's eyes right in front of his own, one almost black and one pearl white. Jake lets him have the dagger to cradle the side of Michael's face with false tenderness. The entity's displeasure scratching down his spine is easy to ignore.

Jake tilts his jaw back, further pressing his neck into Michael's stranglehold and gasps, "Think you can kill me?"

Michael chokes him harder as he lifts the knife and, this time, Jake's grin is real. 

_This is going to be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake's weapons and clothing are styled off the Joseon dynasty. His primary weapon is a nangseon, which can be seen [here for reference](http://static.askkpop.com/images/upload/17/laplace/2012/11/23/Korea-Muye24Ki_50.jpg). His secondary weapon is like [this dagger](https://oriantique.com/collections/korean/products/korean-eunjangdo-dagger-with-gold-and-wooden-design). For his outfit, I had [something like this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ec/85/35/ec853558734ba69bbf9a84417f93222b.jpg) in mind, but dirtier, bloodier, and more DBD-er.
> 
> Hillbilly as a survivor inspired by the cute [@ask-maxthompson](https://ask-maxthompson.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> More extensive notes can be found on my [tumblr](https://audiopilot.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

Michael stabs him.

Or he tries.

The blade bounces off, unable to pierce Jake's skin, and Michael's hand around his neck loosens as those mismatched eyes drop to the dagger. He pulls it back and slowly examines it, likely struggling to understand why it doesn't work. When his gaze meets Jake's again, Jake realizes whoever said eyes were the window to the soul had never met anyone like Michael. They are empty. 

Without looking away, Jake puts a finger to the knife's harmless edge. Michael follows the progress from tip to hilt without even blinking and Jake shows off how his fingertip is whole and un-split. 

Let him puzzle that out.

Then Jake jabs Michael hard in the nose. While the touch should hurt, with the bridge still swollen from Jake's earlier hit, there's still no reaction. 

"Why don't you try it on yourself?" Jake suggests, already thinking about what to do next. He can't fully pin it down, but he wants to see Michael's face twisted in pain and those eyes sparking to life. There are too many places to begin, an overstuffed suitcase bursting open to explode with entirely new ideas on how to satisfy the starved craving awakened by Michael. 

_It shouldn't be hard to..._ the thought fizzles out when Michael actually turns the knife on himself.

Right below Jake's nose, Michael slices at the stretch of bare skin across the back of his own wrist. It's attached to the hand still around Jake's throat, allowing him to see every detail as the skin separates. Jake licks his lips as the shallow scratch widens and momentarily reveals the layers inside. Then it's overtaken by a slow dribble of blood. Not deep enough for any real damage. Only a taste. 

Wait.

Michael did what he said.

It has to be a coincidence. There's no way he could comprehend Jake's words. Maggots into rot, doubt wiggles through the conviction as he watches the red trail drip down under the edge Michael's sleeve.

The realization is detoured when Tinkerer lifts Healer from the hook seconds before she can be destroyed by the entity. She limps away, Tinkerer's arm around her waist for support. They will patch each other up before focusing back on their objective, but Jake doesn't care. Even after they disappear behind the wooden walls of the shack, Jake's gaze stays locked on the run-down structure as he thinks.

Is it possible all the survivors understood him this entire time? Only pretending ignorance? Jake's not sure whether to be offended or impressed. They're not especially talkative little worms, but he has caught their whispers to each other under the grind of generators: words of encouragement, hasty plans, and random observations that Jake doesn't understand. Sometimes they shout _at_ him, but it's always useless pleading for a life that's no longer their own. Jumper even called him a "little bitch" once, right before he let his little flock tear her into pieces.

Something tickles against his jaw. It's Michael dragging the knife across, trying to carve it into Jake's face, both hands around the handle now as if that will make a difference.

Why would he want to chase after them, when he has _this_ in front of him?

"Nice try," Jake says. The impassivity of Michael's expression continues to obscure whatever he's experiencing. Confusion, frustration, or the sinister creep of apprehension as he realizes Jake's knife won't betray him? He gives nothing away. It's an ability, Jake decides. One of those gifts the entity gives survivors to better their odds. It explains how he can stay silent even when injured.

When Michael pokes the knife into his abdomen, low where there's no rib cage to protect his organs, Jake leans into it. He slides his forearms over Michael's shoulders and buries one hand in his hair. It feels unwashed, oily tangles snagging as he gets a handhold. Jake's sleeves bunch up to the crooks of his elbows. His skin, entity-stained and overlapped by deadened veins, makes the paleness of Michael's even more apparent.

"I'll give you a hint," Jake continues, pulling a little on his hair, and the soft tissues in Michael's neck rise up under his skin. There's temptation to bite down on them. Instead, Jake puts his mouth over the curve of his ear and whispers, "Use your hands."

The pressure against his stomach disappears as Michael lowers the knife. He doesn't drop it, which is amusing. Like Jake's not going to take it back after he's done with him.

Then he's hauled away by the back of his robes and forced to the ground. Michael's weight shoves him flat as he uses his hands to keep Jake pushed down into the earth. While being thrown around is something new, Jake is more thrilled to have his suspicion that Michael understands him confirmed. Instead of pushing him off, Jake arranges his body into something vulnerable. He waits to see what Michael will do next.

Darkness strikes him. Pressure smothers most of his face, robbing his sight as his hat crumples, cords snapping as its knocked out of the way. Something hard slams into his face over and over, each hit bouncing his brain around in his skull until he's stunned into deafness along with blindness. 

Michael's trying to beat his head open.

Jake's voice catches in his throat as Michael's fist hits over his eye again and again. Something gives way with a crunch, sharp and sudden. Automatically, he captures Michael's arm on the next downswing. His own wavers a little with the effort to keep it away. Michael should be exhausted by now. He must have more endurance than the rest of the survivors as doesn't stop trying to hit Jake, muscles spasming under Jake's grip.

A generator turns on and the entity bares down on him.

Darkness deeper than anything physical. Michael is gone, the ground underneath him is gone, his birds are gone. There's only the entity and Jake.

It sucks up his worst memories and vomits them back into his already aching head. All his misery, all his failures and lowest moments, flood over him in a hot wash of bitterness. How it had found him, alone and dying, unable to move as his broken body refused to respond. The passing hours turning into days until his throat was raw from screaming and the yearning for even one drop of water. How exhaustion and pain left him too delirious to stop the flutter of carrion birds as they began to set their sharp beaks into his skin. 

The message is clear: the power it has given can be taken away. He was nothing before he became the entity's.

Jake realizes it has released him when he hears Michael's breathing slow over him. He has stopped trying to hit Jake. The tension is cut out of him from where Jake still grips his arm. The entity is digging its barbs into him, but what does it threaten _him_ with?

He could still sense it's hostility, unseen but felt like slick moisture in the air. Carefully, Jake offers up his own hunger to the entity. Something else for it to feed on through the funneling lines that connect them beyond the thrill of hunting and killing. There's no change and Jake persists, remembers all the sacrifices he has given it while he somewhat desperately thinks, _don't I always satisfy you_ , and it suddenly relents. 

Jake breathes out. The entity withdraws with one last, nasty pulse that he knows is not permission but a challenge for Jake to prove he can earn this small freedom.

Sitting up, he elbows Michael back as he sits up. What feels like tears drip over skin flushed with pain. He pushes aside where his hair has slipped from its knot to touch his face. The bones surrounding his eye don't feel right, the skin surrounding it tight and hot. Even as it registers, he can feel the fractured ends grinding as they attempt to knit back together. It makes the stabbing sensation behind his eye worse. There's an odd pressure to it, squeezing down on the ball of his eye. From how his vision has gone black on that side, Jake has to assume something is torn or crushed. Through the gaps in his fingers, his remaining vision shows Michael still over him, knuckles scraped raw where his hands hang at his sides. No malice in his vacant expression.

His injured eye is the same as Michael's scarred one. The severity of the injury fills Jake with a strange weightlessness, like jumping from a great height and leaving his insides behind. If he let him, could Michael smash apart his skull? It's easy to imagine the contents smeared into nothing but meaty pulp to soak into the earth underneath them. But that would only pull the entity's favor in Michael's direction, which is unacceptable. 

"That was close," Jake mutters and smears the unstoppable tears away. His fingers come away red. 

The teasing persona has gotten him good results so far based on the way his wrist, throat, and eye all throb. The pain in his head leaves him wondering where Michael's resilience ends, who would break first between the two of them. The obvious answer is that a survivor shouldn't be able to withstand him, but when Jake gets back on his feet, Michael stands at the same time. He still has a hold on that knife, and he lifts it when Jake summons his nangseon.

The last generator's completion makes the exit gate locks flash before his still-working eye in little, twin spikes of pain. The closest one lies on the other side of the shack. But Michael shows no interest in escape, steady stare only on Jake.

"But you're helpless here," Jake presses. Performing for the entity isn't that different from his old life. He had been a studious and dutiful son, listening to his father drone on about the family business and nodding along like the petty details and politics meant anything at all. He didn't care about the entity's rules, but at least in this he could be entirely himself.

Jake doesn't give Michael any more time to prepare— he aims for Michael's own blind side, stabbing at him with the nangseon's sharp tip. The survivor doesn't make an attempt to protect himself, but Jake had misjudged how his altered vision affected his aim and the hit connects off center, puncturing Michael's shoulder instead of his chest. The impact rebounds up through Jake's arms as it embeds deep within the muscle. Michael presses into it, reaching for him through the branches, sleeves snagging on the tiny blades. Jake yanks his nangseon back and, with a wet rip, it pulls free of Michael's body.

More blood further darkens the front of his coverall. 

He has to bend backwards to avoid Michael coming at him, and the attempted grab becomes them both stumbling in the same direction. Already bringing his weapon back up to put it between them, Jake coughs when an arm collides with his neck and wrangles him back. An elbow bends tight under his throat and Jake swings the nangseon up Michael's side. Though he can feel it hit, Michael refuses to let up.

A sudden, hard jerk wrenches Jake's head to the side with a dull pop of his protesting spine. For a moment, Jake is reminded of how a broken neck felt. How it robbed him of feeling and left him helpless to the elements and scavenging animals. 

That slight hesitation costs him when Michael starts to lift him upwards. Bicep and forearm muscles squeeze tight and Jake's body automatically gasps for air as his feet leave the ground. The strain pulls at the ragged edges of his own skin underneath his clothes, awareness of the strained stitches holding him together motivating Jake to maneuver the nangseon's handle backwards to beat at where Michael's head must be located over his own.

Michael's grunt vibrates against his back and he lowers him just enough that Jake's feet brush the ground. It's all he needs. Jake pushes hard enough that they both careen backwards to the ground. Michael's breath whooshes out over his head when he lands on top of him. Already, Jake wiggles around until he's over Michael. He ignores the pain of a fist punching against his side as he lifts the nangseon up, end-down. His blind eye tingles as fuzzy vision returns to it, allowing him better sight of Michael underneath him.

There's the slightest downturn to Michael's open mouth as he pants for air. Not much of a change, but not that blank, mask-like expression either.

Jake grins and brings the narrow handle of the nangseon down to pierce Michael's chest and pin him down like an insect for display. 

"Stop!"

Locked in the struggle for control, he had failed to realize that they were no longer alone. Jake looks up even as the nangseon hits flesh. He only gets a quick glance of Glasses gaping at him before light sears straight into him.

His newly returned sight is burned away in a haze of red. Hissing out around clenched teeth, he tries to cover his face and avoid being blinded. 

"Michael, come on, we have the gate open!" Glasses' shout is barely audible over the rush of Jake's own blood. His heart pounds and his mouth waters with the need to crush the little worm underfoot for daring to interfere.

Underneath him, Michael surges up and the nangseon dislodges. Jake wildly swings it, but a large hand locks around his arm. Even unable to see, Jake slides sideways to twist out of the grip, using his free hand to claw at what he can feel of the survivor. He can start to see shapes and movement again, and the first thing he notices is the scuffed, black shoes edging forward. Without thinking, Jake follows the attached legs up to see Glasses clutching the flashlight with both hands, eyes wide but back straight with sudden confidence.

Then the click of the flashlight and Jake squeezes his eyes shut. At the same time, Michael is moving, drawing him upwards even as Jake kicks him in the gut. It make's Michael groan a little, but he doesn't let go.

"How are you doing that?" asks Glasses, still close though not within kicking range. That kind of daring only comes out of him when he knows he's beyond Jake's reach. Michael must respond in some silent way as Glasses then mutters, "Uh, well the gate is that way."

Michael's response is to start dragging Jake along. Towards the gate? Jake is confused enough that he doesn't increase his struggles more than pulling at the hand still on his arm. He slits his eyes open enough to see that they are in fact approaching an exit gate. Two figures stand at its open edge, both taking nervous steps back into the bright light.

"What is that?" Tinkerer asks. 

"I don't know," Glasses nervously responds. He turns the flashlight on again and Jake quickly closes his eyes, feigning a cower like he's been rendered blind. It's annoying enough that the hot pit of irritation within him grows into a chasm of actual anger.

"Michael? You— you have to release him to leave," Healer's voice is calmer despite the stutter.

"I already told him that," says Glasses.

"Maybe we should go," Tinkerer suggests. "He looks like he can handle himself."

Their voices overlap as they argue and Jake opens one eye to judge where everyone is located before he attacks.

They all shout when he whips around and bites into Michael's wrist hard enough that something cracks. He can hear Glasses turning the flashlight back on, but it doesn't stop Jake as he chews until fabric and blood give way to iron-rich blood.

Michael lets go and Jake is free.

Tinkerer drags Healer into the gate, passing through the bars that erupt to prevent Jake from ever following like they're not even there. Glasses fumbles with the flashlight, the beam swinging wide before Jake leaps on top of him and they crash to the ground. He snatches Glasses' wrist and bangs it down against the stone until Glasses fingers unclench around the its handle and it rolls away into the grass growing along the brick pillars. After Michael, it's pathetically easy to subdue him.

"Help me," Glasses begs, other hand outstretched to touch Michael's boot. "Please!"

Michael makes no move, neither leaving nor assisting Glasses, who tries to crawl out from under where Jake has him pinned. Escape is inches away, but he'll never reach it.

"Give me the knife," Jake orders, holding out his hand.

"No... what are you— ugh!" Glasses grunts as Jake sits on his chest. He uses his knees to keep his arms down when he weakly attempts to push Jake off of him.

"Michael," Jake says and Michael stares down at him with mismatched eyes. Jake curls his fingers in a grabbing motion. 

For several seconds, Glasses whimpering away underneath him, Jake thinks the big survivor will attack again, and he tenses his legs around Glasses' body, ready to roll back and use the survivor as a buffer. But, slowly, Michael hands the dagger over. He offers it like a child, blade first, and Jake snatches it quickly before he can change his mind. He hovers the tip over Glasses' neck, leaning over so they're face to face.

"When are you going to learn?" Jake whispers while Glasses' panting breath hits his face. He looks terrified. No more false bravado. "You're alone here."

When Glasses stares up at him in confusion, Jake brings the knife down. It sinks deep, blood rushing out as the wheeze of Glasses' trachea splitting makes more of it fill his mouth. Pupils blown wide behind his glasses, the survivor's eyes roll to the side towards Michael, mouth gaping as his screams becomes garbled and wet.

 _There it is_ , Jake thinks, watching Glasses' skin rapidly go white as a puddle widens underneath him. It dampens Jake's shins, colors where his robes touch the ground. He could let him bleed out like this, but Jake decides to quickly end it. He gets up, lifting Glasses' limp weight over his shoulder. His struggles are weak. 

While he could kill Glasses and then Michael, Jake considers the consequences if he let the latter survivor go. With Glasses as witness, it would weaken any future attempts by the other survivors to intervene on Michael's behalf. Once they learn the newest survivor won't aid them, why would they ever want to help him?

"See you later," Jake says as he presses his palm against Michael's chest, over where Jake had cut and stabbed him, and pushes hard enough so he stumbles back. Onto the other side of the gate, forcing his escape. Glasses whimpers as the move jostles where he still hangs over Jake's shoulder, hands feebly pulling at Jake's robe. 

"Stop crying," Jake tells Glasses, shifting his weight as he makes for the nearest hook. "It'll be over soon."

The entity lifts away Glasses' body and then, between one blink and the next, Jake is alone, back in the remains of his own making and not another killer's. It's a mismatch of his childhood home and the forest where he died, far greener than the MacMillan's moonlit ruins. The ornate robes have been replaced by his own clothes. Tattered as they are, they're preferable to the weirder things the entity has him wear. Everything it designs for Jake invokes a discomfort that stings even more after that trial's end. The entity's silence leaves him tense and suspicious as he stares at the yawning doorway into the house.

Jake takes one step towards it before pausing. Michael's presence signifies there is a new place out in the fog.

A new killer.

The appeal of distraction drives him to look for the entity's newest creation. He's disappointed to find a neighborhood with the feel of a ghost town. The garbage cans overflow onto the street and the windows of the homes are boarded up. Abandoned and about to fall to pieces like everything else within the entity. Jake peers into the windows of one of the cars, in much better condition than any of those within Philip's junkyard, but its contents are smeared shadows. Jake looks around, but no one emerges from any of the houses although the killer must know he's here.

It's boring compared to Sally's chapel. 

Eyeing the layout of the place, the white house with the long porch stands out and seems like the place to start. Inside, there's actual furniture.

On the couch sits a woman, her thin figure huddled over her lap. A huge knife lays on the cushion beside her, almost as long as her thigh.

Like Michael, she is dressed entirely in blue though her clothes are in a worse state, covered in stains and frayed slits where they've been torn. Her light hair hangs in lank strands over her face, but she lifts her head and glares at him when he takes another step closer. She looks young, pretty face unmarred despite the deep shadows lining her eyes.

"Who are you?" she demands.

Jake thinks for a moment before pulling his lips into a smile. Though she has yet to learn her powers enough to teach him anything, eventually she will. After earning Sally's angry mistrust, he decides on honesty by introducing himself, "I'm Jake."

Her gaze searches him up and down. Back in his own clothing, the state of his body is obvious and she flinches when one of his birds curiously pops its head out from between his ribs. Jake studies her in turn. She looks human enough to deceive a survivor, about the same size as Jake. On the floor at her feet lays something black and white.

"What do you want?" she asks. She picks up the kitchen knife. "Why am I here? Are you working with that _thing_?"

"Me?" he mildly says. "I didn't do anything."

When he walks forward, she stands and backs away, raising the knife in front of her in defense.

"Stay away!"

Jake ignores her to lean down and pick up the thing on the floor. It's a mask, face stretched from where it has collapsed without someone wearing it. Jake turns the mask in her direction and she recoils, for some reason repulsed at the sight of it.

"That's not mine."

"It is now," Jake points out. He glances around the room once more, showing disinterest in the hope that it will calm her down. She's pretty jumpy, but it's not like Jake's been around for this part before. Philip had been the one to initiate contact with Sally and he's not the sharing sort.

"No!" she insists. The knife trembles in her grip. "I don't understand any of it. Any of this." 

Jake hums an agreement. "I thought the same thing, at first."

"You... you did?"

"Sure." Jake picks his next words with care. "The entity dumps it all in your head, but it doesn't feel real, does it? Like you're trapped in a nightmare."

"Entity," she repeats.

"That 'thing,'" he says. He points at the ceiling and she follows the gesture before quickly looking back at him. She lowers the knife a fraction.

"I thought I was insane. That I was hearing things. Seeing things."

 _So quick to give in?_ Jake thinks, but keeps his expression placid. He approaches the couch, and, while she's still obviously tense, she doesn't retreat. Testing the spring of it, Jake sinks down and lays the mask on the next cushion over. He tilts his head to maintain eye contact. 

"I'm guessing you haven't faced a trial yet."

Her mouth twists as she shakes her head in denial. 

"You will," says Jake. He likes the way apprehension bleeds across her face. She has nothing to hide what she's feeling, and she's so much more expressive than any of the other killers. Or, he thinks of Michael’s blank face, some survivors.

"I don't— I don't want to kill anyone."

"It's not about what you want," he says. "It's what the entity wants."

The faster she learns that, the better off she'll be. She stares at him, speechless, before lowering herself onto the other side of the couch. She doesn't put down the knife, which ups his estimation of her a little. He doesn't bother to fill the silence, watching as she exhales and pushes back where part of her hair has fallen over her face again. Her hand hovers over her mouth for a moment as she looks down at the mask between them.

"Laurie," she finally offers her name. When he doesn't respond, she asks, "Why... why do you look like that?"

"Oh, this?" Jake smirks and leans back to display where the tattered ends of his jacket aren't long enough to cover his torso. She gawks at the lines of stitches and corroded skin, but then her expression closes with a quick flutter of her eyelashes as she looks more closely at where Jake has wasted away. Checking to make sure it's real, he guesses. "One of the gifts of the entity: life after death."

"You died?" Laurie asks, startled from her intent study. "Does that mean I'm dead?"

"You would know better than me."

"This must be hell," she declares, picking up the mask by its dark hair to frown at it. She handles it like it's coated in filth despite looking pretty clean to Jake.

He shrugs. The bird makes its way out of his body to hop onto his knee. It tilts its narrow head to observe Laurie, ruffling its black feathers, and Jake runs a finger down its soft back as he says, "Whatever you want to call it."

"Do you know if anyone else... came with me?" 

"Anyone else? Like who?"

Laurie hesitates long enough for Jake's curiosity to flare before whispering, "A man."

 _How interesting_. 

"Big? Dressed like a mechanic? Doesn't talk?"

The liquid shine of her big eyes pins him in place as she leans forward so quickly that it spooks his bird into flying up onto the arm of the couch. 

"He's here?" she asks with a sudden urgency.

"Michael was in my last trial," Jake explains and notes her recognition at the name. It melts into something halfway between despair and fury. Breathing hard, she flings the mask away and it hits the wall to sag into a little puddle. Jake silently observes the display. None of the other killers have any connections to the survivors as far as he knows. It is the first time the entity's brought in those who know each other. He doesn't know if it means something.

"I would need to kill him." It's not a question. 

"You would," Jake agrees. "He's a little tougher than the rest."

"I know," is all she says. 

His bird ungracefully plops back on his lap, its fragile body weight barely there but for the prickling of its claws nicking through his pants. It dips its head before edging up against Laurie. She flinches when it brushes her elbow, pulling away from it and her grip around the knife's handle turning her knuckles white.

"What is that?" she asks.

"Part of what I do," says Jake. He can feel the others stirring from their makeshift nest inside, disturbed by the sounds of their voices, but he wills them back to sleep. He doubts she would appreciate all four of them around her. The crow beside Laurie makes a throaty protest when Jake picks it up before she can try out her weapon on it. 

The first time he'd encountered them, their dark bodies surrounding him like a threat, he'd tried to crush them with his bare hands. He had been a mess, unable to grasp that he was no longer dying. Only the flattening mass of the entity's claws caging him within its hold had stopped his panic as it showed him its intentions. How it remade him for a new purpose. 

One black, beady eye looks up at him and Jake schools his face in simple curiosity before meeting Laurie's stare. "Do you know it? Your power?"

"Power... I..." Laurie lifts the knife and a ribbon of light licks across the flat steel. "I woke up with this in my hand." She turns the knife in the direction of the mask. "And that over my head."

"Well, you have time to figure it all out," Jake says, gesturing dismissively. It's too bad he can't be around for when she faces Michael. He would like to see how she uses that knife, but not on himself. Not yet. He stands to urge his crow to rejoin the rest of his flock. Eyes wide, Laurie watches as its form distorts, allowing it to clamber past the narrow gap between two of his ribs.

"Are you leaving?" she asks. Jake is surprised by the softness of her tone and then deeply pleased at the small sign of trust. He could tell her anything and she would probably believe him, which makes it tempting to set her up for failure like he did Sally. It's a fleeting thought; better to draw it out in the guise of a welcoming neighbor. Then he can learn her limits. 

"I'm going back to where I belong," Jake says as he walks away. At the doorway, he pauses to advise, "I'm not the only other killer. They aren't all as friendly as me. I wouldn't leave your weapon behind if you go looking around."

 _Otherwise you look like prey_ , Jake doesn't add.

Without waiting for Laurie's reply, Jake leisurely makes his way out of her neighborhood and back into the deformed ghost of his past. Here he can drop all pretense, no need to force any expression on his face.

He considers Laurie and Michael. They're both odd. From her words, Laurie hasn't killed anyone before. Though there is always the possibility of deception, he didn't think she'd been acting. She hadn't held that knife like she knew how to use it, had been quicker to talk than attack. Yet Michael had gone straight for lethality every time, not at all deterred by his continued failure to kill Jake.

The entity has healed any trace of the injuries Michael managed to inflict, but Jake still lightly touches around his left eye as he goes deeper into the house. It's hard to forget the feeling of caved in bone, the agony of a crushed eye sharper than any knife.

His existence isn't something Jake agonizes over too much. Hell or not, it doesn't matter. Maybe it was the experience of dying, or of feeling his body pull itself back together piece by piece, that made it easy to keep going. Allowed Jake to quickly learn how to appease the entity. Or it was just an extension of being an obedient son. Either way, Jake is good at it, playing the entity's game. Good enough to be rewarded, gifts finding their way into his possession. Poison for his nangseon. Ornaments to make him and his birds stealthier, faster, stronger.

But there's one that he rarely receives, which is why it's a surprise when he spots it.

Nestled within the intersecting fronds of a fern pushing its way up through the broken floorboards sits a skull. Half of it has been stripped to the bone. The other half is covered in shriveled skin, face frozen in a scream. 

He kneels down to pick it up, the slight weight of it misleading to the potential the little thing holds. Jake thoughtfully brushes his thumb over its leathery cheek. 

Already, he knows what to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait. I originally planned to update this back in March, but real life concerns and some fandom troubles interfered with my plans. I hope everyone is safe and healthy! 
> 
> The only positive is that the extra time gave me more ideas, which stretched this into three parts instead of two. I decided to post this next section as an early birthday present to myself lol.
> 
> Enamored with the idea of a role reversal where Laurie and Michael have switched spots without changing personalities, I couldn't resist adding her stuck within the killer role. I also posted a little snippet of the first chapter from Michael's POV awhile back [here](https://audiopilot.tumblr.com/post/190334352224/snippet-courtship-flight-michael-pov).


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